


Tumblr Prompts

by SnubbingApollo



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Best Man!Cullen, Desk Sex, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Nightmares, Old Married Couple, Tailor!Dorian, The Iron Matchmaker, vague mention of Blackwall/female Trevelyan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnubbingApollo/pseuds/SnubbingApollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my prompts from tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fenris/Anders: I am here for you

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an Anon: Fenris/Anders: I am here for you

Anders makes a muffled noise in his sleep and shifts slightly. Fenris turns from the book he’s reading to look at his lover. The man’s expression, usually relaxed and peaceful while he sleeps, is tense and frown lines are visible where his loose hair doesn’t obscure them. Fenris reaches down and brushes the other man’s hair back stroking through it gently. Instead of calming as he’d hoped Anders’ frown deepens and he lets out another distressed noise.

Fenris sighs and sets his book on the bedside table. They’re both often plagued by nightmares, an inevitable consequence of the lives they’ve led, but it’s been a while since Anders had had one bad enough to make him cry out in his sleep.

The elf slides closer to Anders and gently rubs his arms. He knows better than to try to hold the man in the midst of one his dreams, the first and only time he’d attempted to use that method to calm him Anders had woken screaming thinking himself restrained and Fenris had gotten an elbow to the face. The mage had spent the next fifteen minutes apologizing even after he’d healed Fenris and the warrior had assured him it was fine. It’s not an experience he’d like to replicate.

“Anders,” Fenris murmurs quietly. “Wake up.” He continues to stroke the man’s bare skin moving from his arms to his chest, though careful not to encircle him. Anders twists restlessly and makes another, louder, noise of distress.

“ _Anders_ ,” Fenris says more insistently. This time it gets through and the mage jerks up in the bed with a cry. He looks around frantically, disoriented, and now that there is less chance of flying elbows Fenris wraps his arms around him.

Anders calms almost immediately and leans into Fenris’ hold burying his face in the elf’s neck and clutching at his shoulders.

“It’s alright,” Fenris whispers into his hair. “I am here for you.”


	2. Adoribull: red lyrium infection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for [Falsechaos](http://falsechaos.tumblr.com/)

Dorian pressed himself against the wall of the cell struggling to hear The Iron Bull’s breathing on the other side. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been since they’d been captured, they were brought food and water but it didn’t seem to be on any kind of regular schedule, and he’d long since given up trying to keep up with the days.

Now, instead of days or hours he measured time by when their captors would come with the lyrium. The red liquid burned when they forced it down his throat, thick and cloying. At first he’d tried to fight, spitting it back in their faces or refusing to swallow, but it never worked for long, and he suspected they’d been putting it in his food, making the attempts even more useless. The more of it they gave him the less he wanted to fight at all. As disgusting as it was going down it burned in his stomach with a seductive kind of power. If they weren’t also keeping silenced he suspected he could burn the whole place to the ground without even breaking a sweat. The idea had less attraction than it should, his thoughts immediately turning to the disgusting liquid and where he would get more of it, if not from them.

Because he wanted more now. The lack of it burned in his stomach almost as strongly as its presence did.

“Bull?” he called out to the cell next to him. There was no answer. It’d been a while since Bull had responded to him. The lyrium was affecting him differently, whether that had more to do with him being Qunari or just not being a mage, Dorian wasn’t sure. At another time, in another place, the question might have fascinated him. Now he just wanted to hear his lover’s voice.

At first he and Bull had done nothing but talk. What they would do when they got out, what everyone in Skyhold must be doing, how they would celebrate once they got home. A few dosings ago Bull had asked him, voice quiet,

“Do you think the boss got away?”

Dorian hadn’t answered. It had been the last thing the Bull had said.

“Bull!” Dorian yelled. His only response was steady, slightly labored, breathing. Dorian bounced his head off the wall in frustration. “Answer me you gigantic savage!”

Dorian squeezed his eyes shut when there was no answer, and pretended not to notice the wet streaks on his cheeks, though he wasn’t sure for whose benefit he did so. It didn’t seem like Bull would care either way and there was no one else present to hide from. He wondered when their captors would be back. 

His stomach burned and his throat ached and he wanted more.


	3. Fenris/Anders: happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an Anon who wanted Fenders sans angst

Anders sighs and leans back in the tub, luxuriating in the warm water.

“You might consider finishing, so that I can have my turn while I’m still young,” Fenris mocks gently from where he sits in a chair by the fireplace.

“I’d tell you to be patient but that’s a bit like telling Isabella to stop flirting,” Anders returns without bothering to open his eyes. There’s the sound of a book closing and footsteps coming closer before fingers begin to gently card through Anders’ damp hair.

“Mmm,” the mage hums in contentment. “That’s not likely to make me pick up the pace, you know.”

“You should leave your hair down more often,” Fenris says by way of answer. “It suits you.”

“It gets in my way and then ends up all covered in potion or herbs or assorted less pleasant things when I try to push it back.” Fenris huffs something that might be a laugh or might be exasperation, Anders is too warm and relaxed to try and interpret it.

One of Fenris’ hands moves from Anders’ hair onto his shoulders and down to his chest, so that he’s crouched behind the tub half hugging the other man. Anders hums in contentment again leans his head back onto Fenris’ shoulder. He’s just settling in for a nice moment of warm water and soft caresses when suddenly there’s ice cold water being splashed on his face.

He sputters and jerks upright sending water over the sides of the tub. Fenris breaks out into laughter and Anders spins to face him to see him holding the bucket Anders had used to fill the tub. There must have been some water left over in it.

“Yes, yes, very funny,” Anders says as he climbs out of the tub, having very much taken the hint, thank you. “See if I cuddle with you again. And _you_ get to refill the tub.” He gestures indicating the bucket Fenris is still holding as his laughs die down.

Anders turns, grabbing a towel and starting to dry off before a hand cups his cheek and turns him into a gentle kiss. The mage leans into it, his half-hearted ire dripping away. When they part he leans his forehead against the elf’s and grumbles,

“You know, there was a time when I could stay mad at you.”

Fenris chuckles.

“There was a time when you did little else.”

Anders hums and kisses the elf again before pulling back a little further and whacking him on the arm.

“I can’t believe you threw cold water on me.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of a way for me to make it up to you,” Fenris responds as he collects the bucket and sets about draining the tub.

“Bet on it, Broody,” Anders shoots back smiling as Fenris rolls his eyes at the old nickname. Anders takes Fenris’ seat in the chair by the fire and takes a moment to admire the elf’s form as he bends over the tub. He’s a very lucky man.


	4. Cullen/Dorian: iron Bull helps them get together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [a-shipping-life](http://a-shipping-life.tumblr.com/) who gave me the prompt: How about some fluffy Cullrian where Dorian confessed his feelings for Cullen but Cullen turned him down. They stayed friends, but one day Cullen saw Iron Bull flirting with Dorian and Dorian flirting back and he saw red and grabs Dorian and drags him away from Bull and Dorian is all confused but Iron Bull smirks cuz he knows whats up :3

The Iron Bull rolls his eyes at the sight of Dorian slumped in the darkened corner of the Herald’s Rest he’s staked out as his own. He’s been huddled there brooding for the past three nights in a row nursing the Ferelden ale he thinks no one's realized he actually enjoys. Though there isn’t much enjoyment on his face right now. In fact he looks pretty bleak and any attempt to speak to him is immediately warded off by distant monosyllabic answers or, if that isn’t enough, the Vint’s own particular brand of venomous meanness. Guy could get downright nasty if you caught him at a bad moment.

Bull doesn’t understand these people. Dorian loves Cullen, Cullen loves Dorian, that should be the end of it, but they have to make it so damn complicated. Shoulds and shouldn’ts and duty and taboo and insecurity. Now they’re both miserable and they’re dragging everybody down with them. The whole atmosphere of the tavern is somber in reaction to Dorian’s sodden gloom as though he’s sucking all the happiness out of the room with the force of his melancholy. And Cullen’s been walking around Skyhold like a man facing the hangman’s noose. The only time either of them seem happy is when they’re with each other and that’s only because they’re both trying to spare the other’s feelings. It’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen. And it has to stop. If only so Bull can start enjoying his liquor again without facing the sucking void of desolation that is a rejected Dorian.

***

The Bull sets his plan in motion the next time the Inquisitor asks both him and Dorian out on a mission. It’s nothing too difficult or exiting, some bandits upsetting things in the Emerald Graves, which gives him ample opportunity to execute phase one, which is pretty much just to flirt with Dorian until he stops sputtering in shock and starts returning the attention.

“Could you stop flexing for a moment, and actually do something useful?” Dorian asks him without any real ire. They’re both out collecting firewood and trying to pretend they don’t know what Sera and Lavellan are getting up to back at camp while they’re away. If occasionally a loud moan reaches their ears neither of them mentions it.

“What’s the matter, Vint?” The Bull fires back. “Distracted by all the thoughts of what me and my muscles could do to you later?”

“Promises, promises,” Dorian says with a smirk. The flirting’s been steadily improving his mood the past few days as well. Bull smirks back at him and winks his one eye, which never fails to make Dorian laugh. Phase one is a roaring success.

***

Phase two is implemented the second Dorian’s reluctant commander is in sight, which is regrettably not as soon as The Iron Bull was hoping. Cullen’s nowhere to be seen when they first get back to Skyhold which means Dorian has time to go to the tavern and begin to sink back into his rut.

When he does finally manage to get them in the same place the next day it’s a matter of pure luck. He’s walking Dorian to the Herald’s Rest because for fuck’s sake if the man’s gonna drink himself into a stupor every night he’s gonna at least have fun doing it if it’s the last thing Bull does, when Cullen comes walking across the courtyard in the opposite direction, reports in hand. Bull seizes the opportunity firmly with both hands. He throws an arm around Dorian’s shoulder enthusiastically to draw Cullen’s eye.

“Must you paw at me in public?” Dorian asks exasperatedly.

“Please, don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Bull teases.

“I might like it more if you ever actually followed up,” the mage retorts. On the other side of the courtyard Cullen has stopped walking and is watching them with rapt eyes. Bull moves in for the kill. He stops them and turns so he’s facing Dorian.

“Oh-ho! Was that a challenge, Vint?” he asks.

“What’s the matter? Don’t think you’re up for it?”

“Lord Dorian!” Cullen’s voice breaks in, urgent and authoritative. Dorian jumps a bit seeming not to have even noticed the Commander’s presence. Oh this was going perfectly.

“Ah Y-yes, Commander?” Dorian calls back once he recovers from his surprise. He looks past Bull at the other human, who was now walking closer to them.

“I require your assistance with a very important matter,” Cullen answers stopping his approach as he reaches them. He’s practically standing between Dorian and Bull, who, at this point, is barely containing his snickers.

“What is it?” Dorian asks. Cullen falters. ‘I require your assistance’ is clearly as far as he’d gotten in his plan. Master of strategy indeed.

“I- that is- if you’d just come with me I could show you,” Cullen stutters pointing vaguely in the direction he’d been walking. Dorian arches an eyebrow.

“Cullen, if it’s so all-fired important why can’t you just tell _me_?” Dorian asks the last word hitching in volume and pitch as Cullen gives up and just grabs the mage’s arm dragging him off towards a secluded hallway.

“Unhand me this instant, you uncivilized barbarian!” Dorian yelps as he stumbles after the grip on his arm.

“It’s- it really is very important,” Cullen says clinging valiantly to his failed gambit.

“What’s important is that you release me before I turn you into a frog! That _is_ what you Fereldans are always so afraid mages will do to you, isn’t-.” They’re in the hallways now so Bull can’t see what cut off Dorian’s ranting but he can guess. He finally gives into his laughter nearly falling over under the force of it.

“Don’t worry about the drinks, Dorian!” he calls into the dark hallway. “I’ll go on without you! You go ahead and see to the Commander’s _important matter_.” He hears some indignant sputtering from the dark and laughs more as he walks away.


	5. Cullen/Dorian: Dorian fits Cullen for a tux for Blackwall's wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an Anon who prompted: Modern AU Cullen has to be fitted for a tuxedo for a friend's wedding, so he heads to the Pavus Emporium where he meets sexy tailor Dorian as they discover they fit in ALL the tight places. + If Dorian spends a bit too long measuring the junk section of the tuxedo

Cullen sighed deeply as he stared down the sign for Pavus’ fine suit Emporium. He doesn’t understand why he couldn’t just wear his damn dress uniform, but Blackwall had been unyielding. He would go and get himself fitted for a tux and that was that. Blackwall and Andrea’s wedding was to have nothing to do with military anything. Cullen thought the man might be worried that the sight of an army uniform would remind Andrea that she and Blackwall had first gotten together under false pretenses, the man pretending to be a fellow soldier of Cullen’s unit to impress her.

Finally, Cullen could stall no longer and opened the door, immediately assaulted by the sound of a far too cheery bell.

“Hello,” a man called from the back of the store. “I’ll be with you in just a second!”

Cullen shifted awkwardly on his feet as he waited. He hated places like this. He always felt so drab compared to the crisp, pressed fabric hanging in every direction. 

The man who’d spoken earlier emerged from the back room and eyed Cullen up and down. He might have been offended or worried he was being judged if he wasn’t eyeing the other man in the exact same way.

The tailor, Cullen assumed anyway, was tall and tan, with facial hair that would have looked absolutely ridiculous on anyone else but seemed to work for him somehow. He actually _curled_ his mustache. His hair was shaved short on the sides in a way that mimicked a buzz cut but managed to appear completely casual and just a bit irreverent anyway. He had deep brown eyes and Cullen was fairly certain he was wearing _eyeliner_. What the hell had Blackwall gotten him into exactly?

The man looked at him expectantly and Cullen realized with embarrassment that he’d said something and was waiting for a response.

“Uh, I’m- I’m here for a fitting?” to Cullen’s horror it came out sounding like a question. “I- there should be an appointment.”

“Ah yes, the Best Man. Rutherford, is it?”

“Yes,” Cullen said thankfully managing to stop stuttering like a fool.

“You’re late,” the other man said tutting softly. Cullen could feel himself blushing and the man’s expression changes for a second, sizing him up before he smirks, and turns towards the back of the store. “Follow me.”

He led Cullen to a room with a small stand and a lot of mirrors. He motioned Cullen onto the stand and pulled a tape measure from somewhere, before stepping closer and beginning to take Cullen’s measurements. He chatted idly as he did so and Cullen was fairly certain he managed to give some distracted responses, but couldn’t tell you what he’d said. The man was standing _very_ close and he kept brushing his hands along Cullen as he worked, tapping gently here and there to turn him or encourage him to raise or lower his arms. Stroking along the length of the tape measure to flatten it to Cullen’s body. After a moment or two Cullen was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose. He blushed and stopped responding to the man’s chatter, just trying to focus on keeping calm and not embarrassing himself.

Then he crouched down and Cullen knew he was fighting a losing battle. The tailor’s deft hands pressed along the length of his right leg, fingers sliding down his inner thigh and Cullen didn’t quite manage to suppress a shudder. He glanced down and saw a little smirk on the man’s face. He _was_ doing it on purpose. Cullen blushed furiously and realized that looking down had been a bad idea when the man glanced up and met Cullen’s eyes from his crouched position _right in front of Cullen’s crotch_. Cullen blanched and his eyes snapped straight ahead again. He could swear he heard the man chuckle in response.

Then he started on Cullen’s in seam and spent _far_ more time on it then necessary sliding his hands and the tape measure this way and that until Cullen was half sure the man was trying to surreptitiously measure his _cock_. His cock which was starting to take notice of the proceedings.

_Oh_ God, Cullen thought in embarrassed horror. As if he could tell Cullen was starting to slip into the humiliated side of embarrassment the tailor suddenly stood up.

“All done,” he told Cullen sunnily. “The Groom provided me with a number to call when the piece is finished so you’re free to go.”

Cullen stumbled off the stand and stuttered out a thank you before walking as quickly to the door as he could while still maintaining his dignity.

“Any time!” the man called after him, his voice low and silky, clearly referring to more than just the fitting. Cullen shuddered as the tone sent a sultry warmth through him.

When he made it outside chased by the sound of that all-too-pleasant bell he shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping that would help to hide his state of excitement. He was surprised to find something in the left one. He pulled his hand back out and saw it was a business card. On one side it read _Pavus’ fine suit Emporium_ and gave the address of the establishment in question. On the other was written in a fine flowing script,

_Call me –Dorian_ and a phone number. Cullen blushed bright red and wondered how soon he could without seeming desperate.


	6. Adoribull: Bull injured in battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [thekingofcarrotflower](http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com) who wanted: Adoribull - Bull getting badly hurt in battle
> 
> Heavily influenced by [this](http://therevoltion.tumblr.com/post/109774584810/picture-this) post by [therevoltion](http://therevoltion.tumblr.com) which I saw in the adoribull tag just before writing this.

Dorian wasn’t facing the Iron Bull when it happened. He was covering Lavellan, having just finished replenishing the barrier around the Elf when the cry reached his ears. He spun without thinking in the direction of the sound and watched with uncomprehending eyes as the Bull collapsed to the ground. That didn’t happen. The Bull was solid as a fucking mountain. Blows rolled right off him he didn’t collapse under them.

As Dorian’s disbelieving eyes took in the sight of the Qunari in the dirt, which was turning red beneath him, so much _red_ already, his hands and staff moved almost without his notice. The bandit was struck by a bolt of lightning and fell to the ground. Dorian didn’t even bother checking to see if he was dead. Someone else would take care of it he got back up.

Thankfully, Bull was still cognizant enough that he was able to help Dorian turn him over so the mage could examine his wound. Dorian hissed in a breath through his teeth at the sight of the damage. The Bull had been practically run through. Dorian cursed himself viciously for never bothering to learn healing. They’d have to get him back to Skyhold quickly.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” The Bull told him but his voice was thready with pain and Dorian wasn’t buying it.

“Shut up,” Dorian said absently. “Don’t speak.” He grabbed the bottom of his robes in both hands and ripped hard. A large swath of white cloth tore free and Dorian pressed it firmly against the Bull’s stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. Distantly he heard Lavellan giving orders to Cassandra but tuned him out concentrating on keeping pressure on the wound and The Iron Bull awake and lucid.

“There was a cart in the barn we passed not far back,” Lavellan said, crouching next to him. “I’ve sent Cassandra for it. We can pull him behind the horses in that.”

Dorian nodded absently.

“Hold this for a moment?” he asked. Once Lavellan’s hands replaced his own on the cloth on the Bull’s wound he returned his hands to his robes heedless of the blood covering them and yanked again pulling free a thinner, longer strip this time. He wrapped it around the Qunari’s waist and tied it off to keep the first cloth in place. As a bandage it left much to be desired but it would have to do until they could get the Bull something better. A hand landed gently on his shoulder and he turned to face the Inquisitor.

“He’ll be alright, Dorian,” the man told him, softly. Dorian nodded and stood when he heard the sound of wheels from behind them.

Getting the Bull into the cart was a nightmare. It took a lot of inelegant lifting and shifting and though the Bull kept from crying out, the effort that went into it, and the fact that he was clearly doing it for their benefit, so they wouldn’t feel guilty, was obvious. Once he was finally settled in the straw Dorian climbed in next to him and took his hand. No one commented.

The Bull drifted in and out during the trip, partly from the blood loss and partly from the potions Dorian gave him for the pain. Dorian leant against the side of the cart and stared at him. At one point he realized the Bull was staring at him in return, his eyes assessing.

“What?” he asked, leaning closer and rubbing his thumb across the Bull’s hand. Dorian wondered if he needed another potion. It’d been a while since the last but they were almost to Skyhold so perhaps it would be best not to give him one.

The Bull pointed at Dorian’s robes with his free hand. Dorian glanced down at the torn and bloodied garment.

“What?” he asked again.

“You ruined your robes,” the bull said. Dorian arched an eyebrow.

“And?”

“Those were your favorite robes.”

Perhaps Bull didn’t need another potion after all. He was making no sense. Dorian merely arched an eyebrow in return.

“You loved them and you ruined them.” The Bulls voice was growing distant again as he drifted off. Dorian sighed as he finally caught on to what to Bull was getting at.

“I love you more, lumbering ox,” Dorian muttered fussing at the makeshift bandage to make sure it hadn’t come lose. “Although I wouldn’t have had to ruin them if you’d simply learn to dodge. Or wear armor like a civilized person.”

A dopey smile came across the Bull’s face.

“Love you too,” he muttered before his eyes closed again. If Dorian had a matching smile on his face, well no one needed to know.


	7. Cullen/Dorian: does Dorian change his name when they get married?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an Anon who prompted: when they get married, does Dorian keep his family name, or does he change it to Cullen's?

Dorian is having something of a crisis. He never imagined he would be here. He’d made his peace long ago with the fact that, although he might enjoy some brief companionship, in the end he would always be alone. He’d never imagined a relationship at all let alone… this.

When Cullen had called him up onto the ramparts Dorian had thought he was looking for a kiss, or several, like usual. But rather than leaning against the battlements waiting for him the man had been pacing anxiously, wringing his hands. Dorian had immediately begun preparing himself to be given the speech. ‘Well it was fun while it lasted, Dorian, but it simply can’t continue. No hard feelings?’ Instead the man had dropped to one knee in front of him and held out a ring for him. Dorian had been so shocked he’d lost command of his voice and could only respond by falling to his own knees and kissing Cullen soundly.

Engaged. Dorian is engaged. He stares down at the ring on his hand bewildered. It’s a simple thing, a wideish band of silverite with a delicate swirling design carved into it. And the source of Dorian’s unrest.

It is customary for one party to take the name of the other in marriage. In Tevinter, of course, it was always the woman, however here in the south the duty seemed to fall to whichever of the two was of the lower rank. Obviously that wouldn’t be the case here. There was no way in the Void Cullen would take the name of a noble House of Tevinter. That left Dorian.

He could, of course, refuse. Insist on keeping his own name but how would that look? Would Cullen take it as a sign that Dorian wasn’t as devoted to their relationship as he’d thought? Would he be insulted? And what, exactly, did Dorian owe his House by way of allegiance anyway? Why should he keep his father’s name? Isn’t Cullen more important than them?

Dorian… Rutherford. Dorian Rutherford. The mage whispers it to himself and it echoes around his empty quarters. Rutherford. It’s just so… _Southern_. It makes him sound _Southern_. Like some family in Fereldan had simply gotten adventurous with their naming practices. Perhaps he has a brother Gaius still working the _family farm_.

Dorian makes an uncomfortable noise. It’s just a name. It’s not as though it would change who he is. He’d still be the same person. He wouldn’t be giving anything up, not really. He hasn’t truly been a Pavus for several years anyway. If he truly loves Cullen shouldn’t making him happy be all that matters? 

It just feels so… final.

It’s Dorian’s turn to pace on the ramparts. Cullen should be here soon and Dorian still has no idea what to say to him. ‘Yes, hello, Amatus. I know I told you I loved you more than anything but I’ve decided my ties to the family I’ve all but abandoned anyway are more important than you.’ _Obviously_ not. ‘I just want to leave my options open.’ No no no. _In so many ways no_. 

‘I’m afraid taking your name would mean leaving everything I’ve ever known behind.’ Dorian sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Uh oh,” Cullen’s voice comes from behind him. Dorian hadn’t even heard him approaching. “You only do that when something’s really troubling you.” The man lays a gentle hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dorian starts but then trails off. Cullen;s brow furrows.

“You’re not having second thoughts are you?”

“What? No! Of course not,” Dorian rushes to assure him.

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure I want to take your name,” Dorian mutters. Cullen looks at him incredulously.

“Who said you had to?”

“Well I’m certainly not going to ask you to take mine. I know you’ve no desire to be linked to a House of the Emperium to say nothing of the flow of it. Cullen Pavus. It sounds ridiculous.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Cullen says carelessly. “it’s not so bad.”

“You’re not serious,” Dorian says. Cullen shrugs.

“But you’re right tying me to your House would be sticky.”

“So it falls to me, as I was saying.”

Cullen moves so that he’s standing between Dorian and the battlements.

“This Isn’t some sort of obligation, Dorian. If you don’t want my name, don’t take it,” Cullen says.

“You’re not upset?” Dorian asks. If anything the commander just looks more confused.

“Why would I be?”

“I thought you might feel slighted. As though I don’t care for you as much as I should.” Dorian looks away as he speaks but Cullen cups his cheek gently and turns him back to face him.

“Dorian, I love you,” Cullen says to him. “And I never want you to do anything that makes you unhappy or uncomfortable.” He wraps his arms around Dorian pulling him close. “I know you love me.” he whispers into Dorian’s hair. “I don’t need you to prove that to me, especially not if it means making yourself this upset.”

Dorian smiles and returns Cullen’s embrace.

“If you’re feeling better Josephine wants to see us,” Cullen says after a moment. Dorian groans theatrically.

“Oh sweet Maker. What is it this time, candle layouts? _Flower arrangements_?”

“I think she said something about color pallets.” Dorian sighs and pulls out of Cullen’s arms.

“Well then we’d best not keep the task master waiting.”

“We really should have known better than to put her in charge of planning the wedding.”

“Yes, well, hindsight is always clearest.”

Cullen’s expression goes serious again and he puts his hands on Dorian’s shoulders.

“You’re really okay?” he asks.

“yes, Amatus.”

Cullen smiles as Dorian starts to make for the stairs.

“Are you sure? Because if you still feel the need to prove your devotion I’m sure I could think of _something_ -.”

“ _Get a move on Commander_.”

Cullen laughs as he obeys.


	8. Cullen/Dorian: Arguing like an old married couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an Anon who prompted: cullrian: arguing like an old married couple

“I’m worried the Inquisitor is having some trouble adjusting to her new position,” Cullen confides as he and Dorian ride down the road. They’ve been keeping up casual conversation as they go, the Fereldan countryside not being exactly entertaining. As Dorian had commented there were exactly five choices of view, corn on right soybeans on left, corn on left soybeans on right, corn on both sides, soybeans on both sides, and trees. “She was reluctant to send us on this mission at all. Said she felt as though she were throwing her weight around by having us there.”

Rather than answering Dorian pulled his horse up short.

“We’ve gone too far,” he says curtly. Cullen arches an eyebrow.

“Really? Do you think so? I thought having representatives from the Inquisition oversee the talks was a good way to mediate.”

Dorian flaps a hand in dismissal, somehow managing to make what should be a spastic gesture elegant.

“No no no, I mean we’ve _literally_ gone too far. We’ve missed the turn,” He clarifies.

“No, we haven’t,” Cullen responds surveying the area. “We’ve some way to go yet.”

“Cullen I’m telling you that fork we passed a few minutes ago was it.”

“I grew up in Fereldan, Dorian, I know where I am,” Cullen says firmly. He’s about to start his horse moving again when he hears Dorian make a derisive noise beside him.

“So you have the entire country memorized do you? Quite the feat,” he says his voice dripping sarcasm.

“We haven’t missed the turn,” the Commander says again this time being sure to usher his mount forward before Dorian can argue. Dorian sighs behind him but follows. Cullen nods satisfied the matter is closed.

That is until some time later when it’s started getting dark and they still haven’t come across another turn in the road. Dorian sighs theatrically behind him and Cullen groans internally.

“Ready to admit defeat, Amatus?”

“I am _not_ lost,” Cullen insists but his voice has lost the authority it had the last several times he’d made the claim. He can practically hear Dorian rolling his eyes.

“The sooner you admit you were wrong the sooner we can turn around, go down the road _I told you_ was the right one and find an inn.”

Cullen turns his horse rounding on his lover.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” he grumbles.

“Traveling in the wrong direction for miles as it slowly gets dark? No. Watching you slowly come to the conclusion that you were wrong and I was right? _Immensely_.”

Cullen glares for a moment before turning his horse the rest of the way around and travelling past Dorian back down the road. The Tevinter opens his mouth to comment but Cullen cuts him off.

“Not. A. Word,” he says firmly. Dorian chuckles.

“It’s alright Cullen, I love you even despite your ability to get stunningly lost in your own native country. And don’t worry I won’t _ever_ let you forget it happened lest you repeat the mistake.” 

It’s Cullen’s turn to sigh gustily. Dorian breathes another laugh. He’ll make the teasing up to him as soon as he’s off this horse and has some food in his stomach. For now he’s going to milk this for everything it’s worth.


	9. Adoribull: First Time Love Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an Anon who prompted: Dorian and Bull cuddling after sex, and Dorian accidentally letting "i love you" slip, and it's the first time either of them have said it.

Dorian collapsed on top of the Bull, all the strength leaving his muscles in the wake of his orgasm. Bull chuckled a little and shifted the Mage so he was pressed into the qunari’s side, face buried in the crook of his neck.

Dorian made a soft sound but didn’t respond otherwise. He was already half asleep, blissed out and sated. One of Bull’s hands came up and began stroking his hair and Dorian sighed nuzzling closer to him.

“Love you,” he slurred softly. The words slipped past his lips without a thought. He might not have noticed he’d said them if Bull hadn’t tensed beneath him. Dorian’s eyes widened when he realized what he’d done. His blissful calm left him in a rush and he immediately started backpedaling both physically and verbally, frantic to fix the mess he’d undoubtedly just made.

“That’s not- I mean- I wasn’t…” he stutters out as he tries to pull back from the Bull’s embrace. “Ignore that.” Bull’s hand on his hair and his arm around Dorian’s waist stay where they are, though gently. Holding but not holding him in place.

“Is that what you want?” Bull asks. Dorian looks at his face trying to get a read on him, the damn qunari is giving him nothing to go on though. What did he want Dorian to say?

“Yes?” Dorian says slowly and not at all with the confidence he means to. The Bull just looks at him, expressionless, and Dorian falters. “No,” he admits, looking away.

“Dorian,” the Bull says sadly, and the mage readies himself for The Talk. ‘It’s been fun, but I just think you’re getting too attached’. ‘We should end this now’. ‘We want different things’. Gentle fingers press under Dorian’s chin turning his face back to Bull. The qunari’s thumb strokes his cheek as he speaks.

“I’m not upset,” Bull reassures him. “I don’t have a lot of experience with sort of thing, but I care about you, Kadan, you’re important to me. I think about you when you’re not here, and I worry about you when I go out with the Inquisitor and I’m not with you. I want to take care of you and make you happy-.”

Dorian interrupts him with a fierce kiss before he can say any more. When they finally separate, mainly because of the need for air, Dorian blinks rapidly and clears his throat, in a vain attempt to hide the moisture in his eyes.

“Yes, well. I suppose that’s alright then,” he says, laying back down and pressing his face back into the Bull’s neck. The qunari chuckles a little before starting to stroke his hair again.

“Does this mean I can call you Muffin?” Bull asks after a minute.

“ _What_?”

“Sugar? Oh! I know! _Honeybunch_.”

Dorian grabs the pillow from his side of the bed and smacks bull in the face with it.

“We were having a _moment_ , you lummox!”

Bull just laughs.


	10. Hux/Mitaka desk sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt from [Darthlenaplant](http://darthlenaplant.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> Hux fucking his trusted (or more like "thrusted" haha my jokes are horrible, I know) Lieutenant Mitaka on/over his office table?

Mitaka cried out, clinging to the edge if the desk, each hard thrust rocking him against the sleek black surface he was bent over. The reports he’d been delivering lay forgotten where they’d fallen on the floor.

“General!” he cried, pressing back into the other movements.

“Say my name, Mitaka,” Hux murmured back, voice rough with pleasure. Mitaka moaned, resting his forehead on the cool surface of the desk to ground himself.

“Hux!” he gasped and shivered when there was a moan from behind him in response. _“Tyler!”_

Hux chuckled a bit at the use of his first name.

“You’re so perfect, Dopheld,” he said. He leaned down to press kisses along his neck and shoulder as he thrust. “So good for me.” Mitaka panted for breath the praise making his cock twitch where it hung heavy between his legs. Before he could dissolve into begging however, Hux had wrapped a hand around his waist and was stroking his cock.

Mitaka cried out high and loud and Hux moaned in response against his throat.

“The _noises_ you make. Come for me, Darling, let me hear you,” the General urged him, swiping his thumb over the head of Mitaka’s cock and giving a firm thrust.

Mitaka whimpered as he fell over the edge. His knees buckled under the onslaught of pleasure and the only thing that kept him standing was Hux’s arm wrapped around his waist. The General wasn’t far behind following him into climax after a few more sharp thrusts.

They lay like that, panting for a moment. Hux continued pressing gentle kisses along Mitaka’s neck and shoulders.tracing his fingers softly along his bare skin.

“Do you have any concept of how gorgeous you are?” he asked, his voice an almost awed whisper. Mitaka blushed a small smile finding its way onto his face.

“You keep telling me,” he said. Hux hummed.

“ And I will continue to do so,” he said softly before leaning up and off Mitaka’s back. “Come now. We both have work to do and one of us is going to accidentally step on that datapad.” Mitaka laughed a little.

“Yes, sir.”


End file.
